


I’ll Be Waiting

by awwcoffeenooooo



Series: 195 [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Frank’s in deep, Karen hitching along on Frank’s nightly excursions, ish, slight whump on end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 19:07:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12688398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awwcoffeenooooo/pseuds/awwcoffeenooooo
Summary: Her big blue eyes are gazing into his intently, and hell, he never stood a chance anyway. Not with that look, those lips, her voice. He was dead long before she stomped into his apartment with those heels of hers and demanded he listen to her."Please,"There it is. She's killing him. All this time, and all it took to bring down Frank fuckin' Castle was one petite Karen Page. The cops might like to know that one. Might help their cause a bit.





	I’ll Be Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! 
> 
> There’s a slight trigger in the middle. It’s a very - _very_ \- brief mention of human trafficking of children. Nothings outright mentioned but I’m sure you can imply. Nothing outside of canon violence, though :)
> 
> For prompt #1 of 195 - “Give me a chance,”
> 
> Inspiration — The Cheap Bouquet by Pierce The Veil
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

"Give me a chance, Frank,"

Her big blue eyes are gazing into his intently, and hell, he never stood a chance anyway. Not with that look, those lips, her voice. He was dead long before she stomped into his apartment with those heels of hers and demanded he listen to her.

"Please,"

There it is. She's killing him. All this time, and all it took to bring down Frank fuckin' Castle was one petite Karen Page. The cops might like to know that one. Might help their cause a bit.

He sighs, looking down at the pistol he's loading. But it's a losing battle, and he knows it. Karen is a hell of a woman, and he wants her safe. Sometimes, safe is right next to him.

To clarify, just so he can keep a damn eye on her.

Frank takes a moment of satisfaction in the series of clicks as the magazine slots into place, but then he looks up to Karen. He tries not to let his lips twist at her triumphant expression, but he's failing and he knows it. They both do.

"You're staying in the van," he mutters, grabbing his duffle. Max happily pads over to Karen, seeming to understand her place in all this, and she indulges him with a scratch over the head.

"Traitor," he sighs, but nonetheless nods for them to head out.

 

* * *

 

 

 

His van is parked three streets over, in an alleyway with a trash can moved to cover the license plate. It's bought off of one of Micro's contacts, but somehow Frank wouldn't be surprised to find it's expired.

Karen follows at his side, Max trotting a few paces ahead of the two them. His leash hangs loosely in her palm, more for appearance than anything else.

To anyone else, they must look like a couple out for a walk. But there's the weight of a knife in his boot, and a pistol in his pocket, and that pushes the thought from his mind. He can make out the outline of a knife under Karen's pant leg, and a lump in her waistline that's her .380. They're anything but a couple, and anything but normal aside from that.

She's a tough woman. She can take care of herself -- and has proved that to him on several occasions. But that doesn't mean he doesn't worry. Her work is dangerous, more so for her words than circumstance like him, but it's still a risk nonetheless. After hearing what had happened to her before he'd ever come to town, it had only solidified that fact. And she hadn't even been in the press then.

So yes, he worries. He's already lost the three most meaningful people in his life, and that was before he'd even impressed his world upon Karen's. Now, she was all he had left, regardless of how messed up the pair of them were. It's only natural for him to feel protective, to make sure she has backup or at the least the guardianship she needs.

Like now. She's just barely completed a piece on a human trafficking piece of scum, had it published not twelve hours ago, and yet she's already back on the trail of another. The least be can do this time around is to make sure she has backup.

"You're staying in the van," he tells her, brushing a burrito wrapper off the passenger seat for her.

She raises a thin brow at him. "Like hell I am,"

"I'm not taking chances," he retorts, checking the mirror to make sure Max is settled in to the pile of blankets in the back. The dog's tongue pokes out joyfully. "And I'm not letting you be caught by some cop, either."

His tone leaves no room for argument, so Karen resignedly nods and glances out the window.

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Damn it, Page,"

His fingers are pressing against slippery flesh, that reddish orange tint slipping over his knuckles and on her pale skin, staining it. He swallows down the bile in throat. The memories it brings up.

He should have known she wouldn't listen.

But then, he can't blame her.

Once he'd taken out the traffickers, busting down cages and cells — all full of children — he'd shooed them towards the exits. A huddle of them had made it out nearest to the van, each sobbing and filthy and too thin.

Karen had made the logical choice and rushed towards the youngest, a girl no older than perhaps seven. And that was when it had all gone to hell.

He'd missed one. The man had stumbled out to the alley, teeth gleaming red, and raised the gun. But Karen was quick, firing off two shots that struck him in the chest and threw him to the ground.

And then she'd picked up the girl, shielding her from the sight, and herded the others toward the street.

Of course, the asshole wasn't done yet, and this shot managed to slam into Karen's stomach.

Frank had arrived just in time to unload a bullet into his skull, and then he was running toward Karen.

The little girl is weeping, sitting in what looks like an oversized and dirty t-shirt. Her hands are running on either side of the woman's head, but Frank pays her little mind.

"Ma'am," he mumbles, holding his hand tightly to the hole in her waist. Her face is screwed up in pain, hissing from between her teeth, yet she manages to blink up at him.

"F-Frank," she whispers, and he can't help but take her hand at that. Their palms stick together, but he ignores the fact it's from the blood. _Her_ blood. His stomach churns.

"Hey, hey, stay with me," he answers, releasing her to apply more pressure to the wound. "You're not leaving me too, Ma'am. Not you,"

She manages a weak smile, still breathing laboriously. "Wh-What . . . kids . . ."

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, shaking his head. "They're fine, yeah? Don't worry about 'em. They'll be alright. Just breathe, Page. Breathe,"

Karen weakly nods, letting her head slump back against the cold concrete. Carefully, she focuses on her breathing, however hitched it is.

The sirens are growing closer, and her eyes somehow manage to catch his. "Go,"

He shakes his head, biting his lip. "No, I'm not gonna fuckin' leave you here."

"I'll be f-fine," she swallows, and his stomach clenches at how painful it looks.

Biting his lip, he nods. "Okay,"

She smiles, somehow, and he can tell it's genuine. Impulsively, he leans to press a kiss to her temple, lingering longer than is perhaps necessary.

"I'll come," he nods, stroking a finger along her cheek one last time. She doesn't have to ask what he means. She knows; they both do.

"I'll be waiting,"

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to hear your thoughts :) 
> 
> Tumblr/Instagram — WhenTheSkyeQuakes


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